


The Mailbox

by Kaunis_Sielu



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-15
Packaged: 2019-03-19 05:01:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,996
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13697385
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaunis_Sielu/pseuds/Kaunis_Sielu





	The Mailbox

You were used to the motorcycles that rolled past your little house. It was the price you paid for living down the street from the second-in-command of the Howlies. But it kept you safe, safer than one might think and from what you’d seen of the man he’d been pretty nice to look at too.

It had been late fall when you’d bought the house and now that it was solidly spring you were finally able to get outside and plant some flowers. You’ve got a bandanna tied around your head, the ends on the top of your head and your hair in a messy ponytail. It’s nice enough for some lulu Capri pants and a T-shirt. You’re going to be gardening after all, you need to be able to move, you lug the bag of soil out of the garage and then bring out the flowers you bought last weekend. Mostly colorful daisies, a few marigolds and some white jasmine. You’d drawn out how you wanted them in the box so now it was just weeding, digging and planting.

The weeding takes around an hour. It’s annoying but also strangely satisfying to see the five gallon bucket full of weeds. You head inside for some lemonade and when you head back out you plop down on the grass. Face tilted up toward the sun as you lean back on your hands, your knees are bent with your feet planted on the ground, your phone playing the latest And That’s Why We Drink podcast episode. You hear a motorcycle roaring up the street toward you, it slows slightly as it takes the curve before your house, they never go too fast which is nice. You’d hate for someone to get hurt. The motorcycle passes by your house then the driver shouts, “Fuck!” His yell is followed by a crash and your eyes fly open.

Looking toward the street you’re astonished to see a bike now in your front yard. One rider still straddling the monster trying to get your mailbox out from underneath it.

“Holy shit are you okay?” You cry jumping up and hurrying toward him. He revs the engine causing you to squeak in surprise as he tries again to get the mailbox out from under the bike. “Hey!” You yell over the noise of the engine finally getting his attention.

Holy shit. He’s the hottest man you’ve ever seen. You knew he was good looking from the times he’s cruised by but you weren’t prepared for this.

“Are you okay?” You repeat and he nods but you can see the blood sliding down his face.

“I’m fine. I’m more worried about your mailbox and my bike.”

“You’re bleeding.” You point out and he touches the spot on his head. “Stay here I’ll go get my first aid kit.”

“I’m fine Darlin. Thanks though.”

“You’re bleeding. I know you’ve probably got like a reputation to uphold or something but you kinda owe me. You’ve taken out my mailbox and put a really nice rut into my front yard.” You point out and he looks a bit embarrassed. “Stay here. Or I will come down to your place and administer first aid there.”

“Yes ma’am.” He says with a small chuckle. You head inside not sure if you’re going to have to follow through on your threat or not.

Once you get back outside you’re pleased to see he’s still in your yard. He’s managed to get the mailbox and it’s post out from under his bike. His bike is now parked in front of your house and he’s frowning at the mark he’s made through your yard.

“Alright, let me see that cut.” You tell him and he turns to face you. Slipping on the gloves you pull out some gauze and an alcohol wipe. “Sorry if this stings-“ you trail off hoping you’ll get his name.

“Bucky.” He smiles as you tend to the cut on his forehead. You introduce yourself and he repeats your name softly. “How long have you lived here?” He asks as you press the gauze to the cut.

“Six months or so. I’m a teacher at Birchwood Elementary.” He’s not going to need stitches but head wounds bleed forever. “What happened?”

“What?”

“When you hit my mailbox.”

“Oh, cat ran across the road.” He seems distracted, and you risk a glance into those bright blue eyes. His pupils don’t seem to be dilated.

“Orange tabby?” You ask focusing back on the cut on his head.

“Yea. Yours?”

“No, I’m more of a dog person. It’s Mr. Nelson’s, blue house three down. You didn’t hit it did you?”

“No Darlin’ just your mailbox.”

“I’m fine with sacrificing my mailbox for Mr. Nelson’s cat.” You give him a smile, “Can you tell me what day it is?” He can. He also knows how old he is, his address and what month it is so you’re satisfied that he doesn’t have a concussion.

“If you wanted to get to know me Doll all you had to do was ask.” He flirts and you laugh.

You remove the gauze after a few more minutes, he’s not bleeding anymore.

“You’re good to go Bucky. Thanks for humoring me.”

“You were a great nurse, next time I cut myself I’m coming over.”

“You’re welcome to stop by anytime.” You offer, you like him. He’s sweet, charming and funny, and you could use more friends outside of school.

“I’ll keep that in mind. I’ll be back tomorrow to fix that mailbox.”

“Don’t worry about it. I wanted a new one anyway, it’s already in the garage so really you’ve saved me work.” He doesn’t look like he believes you but when you assure him again he nods.

“Thanks again Darlin.”

You nod and after throwing away the supplies you’d used get back to gardening.

Two days later you’re headed down the road toward your house when you notice a big black motorcycle sitting on the street in front of it. Bucky is just finishing setting up the mailbox, the post is in the ground, and the box is no longer a plain black box. Instead someone has painted it to match the flowers in the flower bed. You pull into the garage and see that the mailbox you’d purchased is gone. You know you shut your garage door.

“Bucky,” You call making your way down the driveway. He grins up at you, “You really didn’t need to do this.”

“I wanted to.”

“Did you paint it too?”

“Steve did. He’s always been artsy and I figured this would be a bit nicer than that plain box.”

“It’s beautiful. Tell him thank you.” He throws the last of the dirt back into the hole and stomps it down.

“Done.” He goes to leave when you place a hand on his arm.

“How did you get that out of my garage?”

“Darlin, a little garage door isn’t much of a challenge. You should order a security system if you’re livin in there alone. The Howlies won’t always be enough to protect you.”

“I always lock the doors.”

“I could get past those too. I never would unless it was an emergency but that doesn’t mean Hydra won’t.” Your blood runs cold at the thought and a chill runs down your spine. “I’m sorry.”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t mean to scare ya doll.”

“No, I need to be reminded. It’s just, safe, here not like the city so I forget that it’s still not safe.”

“I could-“ he stops but when you look up at him you’re surprised by the intensity of his gaze, “I could come check on you. Every now and then.”

“I’d like that.”

This starts a pattern, for the first month or so he stops by twice a week. Sometimes staying for dinner, other times having to deal with ‘business’ and just making sure you’re okay before he does so. Then it becomes three or four nights a week, and before you know it he’s at your place most nights.

One night he comes bursting into your place, you’d given him a key a couple months back so he’d stop picking the locks. “Pack a bag. You’re coming to my place tonight.”

“What?” You ask looking up from the homework you’re grading.

“Get some shit together. Now. Right now.” You’ve never seen Bucky like this and it’s honestly kinda terrifying.

“Bucky what’s going on?”

“You’ve been threatened and I need to get you safe.”

“So the belly of the beast is safer than a neutral location?”

“My home is protected by a gang of Howlies. Yours isn’t, come on Doll please pack a bag before I drag you outta here.” You do as he asks, grabbing a change of clothes, pajamas, tooth brush, toothpaste, and the bag you take to school.

“I’m ready.” You tell him and he wraps a hand around one of yours before hurrying you out of the house. You’re surprised to see there are four men waiting in your driveway.

“I’m Steve, I’ll take your bags.” The leader of the Howlies doesn’t look like a rough and tumble biker, but then again neither does Bucky most days.

“Thanks.” You hand over the bags and then Bucky swings a leg over his bike before passing you a helmet.

“Helmet on.”

“It’s like a block.”

“Helmet. On.” He growls and you do as he asks with a huff. One of the men chuckles. “Don’t encourage her Wilson.” Bucky snaps as you buckle the helmet. “Swing on Darlin.” You do and he revs the engine before rolling out of the driveway. If he’d been more relaxed you’d actually have loved to go for a ride. But not tonight. He’s way too tense and he and the rest of the men roar down the street. They pull the driveway and the other four men linger as Bucky continues up it toward the garage.

“Barton, Lang, first watch.” Steve orders and two of the men pull away as their leader rolls into the garage next to Bucky. The one Bucky’s called Wilson joins you. “I’ll take her stuff to your room Buck.” Steve says as you swing off of the bike, Wilson takes the helmet from your hands then whispers,

“Ask him why he really hit your mailbox.” Then winks and is gone. You’re standing there, completely confused, when Bucky speaks.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean for anyone to find out you were connected to me. Somehow they did.”

“It’s fine Bucky. I mean is this how I expected my night to go? Hell no, but I wouldn’t give up my connection to you, I love spending time with you.”

“You do?”

“Yea. I’m so glad you almost killed Mr. Nelson’s cat and killed my mailbox instead.” You tell him. He won’t look at you, “Oh my god you did kill the cat, didn’t you?”

“No darlin.”

“Then what is it? Something’s bothering you.” You take his face into your hands forcing him to look at you. “Bucky please.”

“I didn’t almost hit a cat. I’d never seen you before, not really and, God this is so embarrassing.” He grumbles, “I got so distracted by you and how gorgeous I think you are that I drove right into your mailbox.” You can’t help it, you laugh. Bucky tries to pull away from you but you wrap your arms around his neck and press your mouth to his.

It takes him a second to respond but when he does it’s with his whole body. His arms wrap around your waist and he drags you into his lap, so you’re sideways on his bike. He growls lowly as his lips coax yours apart, he swallows the sigh that passes your lips. You pull away first, resting your forehead against his you laugh softly.

“So about being connected to me and how you don’t care.”

“I really, really don’t care Barnes.” You assure him before kissing him again.


End file.
